Warriors often held an inexplicable "superstition" toward their own instincts.
As a pure warrior—a legendary warrior who had clawed his way back from the River Styx several times—Kusi believed in his instincts more than most.
This intuition, as though "fate" had crashed head-on into him, had saved him from disaster more than once.
Thus, the instant Kusi saw dense, eerily vital frost forming from the gnoll's wounds and creeping along the spine of his sword, he immediately kicked Huozi in the chest, trying to wrench free the broadsword lodged in the other's shoulder blade and get away from this abnormal gnoll.
A warrior's instincts would not let him easily abandon his weapon.
On the battlefield, abandoning one's weapon was no different from abandoning one's life.
Yet that very instinct cost him his best chance to escape.
This gnoll's strength was simply monstrous.
It was one thing for him to possess inhuman strength comparable to a giant beast before even reaching legend, but did this fellow have spellcasting abilities too?
At that moment, even Marshal Kusi—one of only two among the Arcane Brotherhood's upper ranks who could not cast spells—felt a little sour.
Almost the instant his foot shot out, he seemed to hear a sigh from the gnoll's mouth. Like a wisp of wind in the depths of winter, it froze everything within dozens of feet around them.
Crystalline frost swept over the gleaming sword spine in the blink of an eye, over his powerful arm, over his tall, imposing body, over the vividly colored world before his eyes.
It was as if everything he saw had blossomed with flowers of ice crystal.
The two warriors locked in a fight to the death seemed to become a solemn ice sculpture. The kneeling gnoll wore a faint smile of sudden understanding